Thursday, March 25, 2010

Jehovah sat in the center of the drab yet well lit room, thinking on the last half hour. His life would never be the same. The darkness that had irrevocably seemed to be descending on him at an exponential pace had suddenly been eradicated. Trust was not his forte, though. The other shoe lurked, ready assuredly to fall on his head heel first. She was simply unbelievable. How could someone like her love him. How could she even feign to love him? Yet she did, apparently. Even in this drab yet well lit room, she saw something in him he’d never dared to see in himself, or at least pretended to.

He got up off his ass and walked to the bathroom. He didn’t even look in the mirror to find his faults. Jehovah didn’t need to isolate the wrong because so much had suddenly had become right. Rebecca was real, not some ephemeral creation of awkward fantasy. She touched him, she listened, she laughed at things he found funny. She was impossible.

Tom the Dancing Bug

Reverent hat tip to The Hurting